Murder! at the Institute of War
by Tactikalm
Summary: It's no fun hunting for champions on the Fields of Justice, so Shaco and five accomplices decide to have a little fun outside of the summoners' jurisdiction. With champions being murdered left and right, it's up to Caitlyn and her team to save the Institute before it's too late. Rated M for violence.
1. Prologue

**Murder! at the Institute of War: Prologue**

 _Institute of War: Unmarked Chamber: 17:40 VST (Valoran Standard Time)_

Shaco cackled darkly as he sharpened his coveted knives to a razor sheen, their wicked blades gleaming with a sinister shine in the low torchlight. His demonic clown mask was shadowed, but the sanguine smile that was carved into the visage was still clearly visible, the yellowed teeth curved upwards in a twisted grin. The other five occupants of the chamber sat still, some more patiently than others.

The hulking purple man stood suddenly, slamming his cleaver down into the stone table in front of him. His pupil-less eyes blazed with impatience and fury.

"Mundo tired of waiting!" the Madman of Zaun roared, stamping a gargantuan foot down, his long blue tongue flopping around at the action. If the giant wasn't so grotesquely intimidating, the action might have brought on some mirth from an onlooker. "Mundo demand to know why Mundo here!" Shaco tut-tutted at the purple-skinned behemoth, waggling one of his daggers casually.

"Why so serious, doc?" the Demon Jester chuckled, flicking a freshly-sharpened knife at Mundo. The target in question merely held a hand up, the knife embedding itself in his palm. Without flinching, he crushed the weapon in his hand, the blade no larger than a toy in comparison to his own cleaver, and stuck it into his mouth. Two chews later, the potent tool of assassination had disappeared entirely down the giant's gullet. This only seemed to amuse Shaco, and he erupted into deranged giggling at the action. "Oh, what a riot!" he cackled, clutching at his sides as he pulled another dagger from nowhere.

The glowing green spectre cleared his throat as he stood from his position at the table, the ghostly sound echoing a bit.

"If it's all the same to you, clown," Thresh said politely, his chains rattling as he moved. "I would also like to know why you have called us to this room. I was not even aware that such a chamber existed, and I have a feeling that the summoners do not know of its whereabouts either."

The four champions that had not spoken yet clamored about in that instant, speaking their minds about the subject all at once, filling the medium-sized room with noise. Shaco grunted, and pulled a new weapon from behind his back, stabbing it with great force into the table. The Statikk Shiv discharged its magical energy into the surface, blue lightning bolts lancing across the table. The chorus of voices fell silent in a flash, the champions' eyes widening at the weapon's appearance. It was forbidden for champions to access the mystical weapons of the Summoner's Rift, with no exceptions.

"Now," the jester said, his sing-song tone of voice conflicting with his image. "Do I have your attention? I have a little game that I invite you all to play with me… I've broken the security measures that the summoners created, and I've bypassed the safety functions of the Institute. Here's the fun part; we're going to kill all the champions of the Institute of War, and we will end the League of Legends."


	2. Chapter 1

_Institute of War: Noxian Dormitory Hall A, 23:41 VST_

Caitlyn stared down at the crime scene before her, her trusty rifle slung across her back. Heimerdinger's mangled body was splayed out on the ground, a pool of congealed blood surrounding the corpse. The remains of three of Heimerdinger's patent "Evolution Turrets" sat in a triangular formation around the dead inventor, with haphazardly-wound caution tape affixed to them. It was in no way a professional crime scene, but it was the best that the champions could manage.

It had been a full fifteen hours since all the summoners had disappeared without a trace. Once the powerful mages had vanished, the champions began to roam the halls, searching for an answer. Heimerdinger had been found dead in one of the Noxian residence wings by Soraka, but by the time the Starchild had reached him, it had been too late. A few champions had visited the crime scene to pay respects to the Revered Inventor, but the majority of them had retreated to their dormitories in fear of becoming a victim as well. Not many champions were very useful for Caitlyn's investigation, as none that approached her had actually witnessed the murder occurring, The only clues that the sheriff could find on the corpse were the numerous stab wounds on the body. Caitlyn turned to the white-haired champion directly in front of her.

"What do you make of it?" she inquired, crossing her arms. The celestine starchild stood from her kneeling position in front of the deceased champion.

"As I have said," Soraka stated. "Heimerdinger is beyond my help now. I have prayed for his soul to move on peacefully, but that is the extent of how I can help at the moment. If it's alright, I will retire to my chambers now." Caitlyn nodded as Soraka left the scene, and turned to face the other living champion in the room.

"And you, Ekko?" she asked, a small amount of tension seeping into her voice. The Zaunite boy was known to be...uncooperative with Piltover-affiliated champs. The boy scoffed a bit, shaking his head as he fiddled with the device on his wrist.

"Well, Piltie," Ekko began, using his nickname for Piltovian champions to address the sheriff. "From what I can tell, the yordle's been dead for seven hours, tops. Those piece-of-junk contraptions he calls turrets were destroyed either during or after his death. They weren't stabbed though, if you couldn't tell. They look like they were smashed by something heavy." Ekko leaned down to look at the corpse more closely. "And little-miss-healer didn't catch something on the body. Take a look at his shoulder here." Caitlyn swung a lens down from her hat to magnify her vision, and looked at where the time-traveller was pointing. There was a deep gash that ran from the yordle's neck all the way down to his mid-torso. At first glance, it looked like it was a knife wound, but upon closer inspection, it seemed like…

"...A cleaver," Caitlyn whispered, slotting the lens back into her hat. Ekko nodded, a small smirk present on his face.

"Well, looks like not all you Pilties are as dull as I thought," he said, crossing his arms. "The fact that a cleaver or an axe and a knife were used in this murder clearly points towards it being a Noxian assassination." Caitlyn could only nod at the second statement, though she gave Ekko a flat look for the first. She placed a hand on her chin, contemplating the numerous Noxian axe and knife-wielders, with a short list popping into her mind.

"Axes and knives, hmm? Sounds like it could be Darius, Draven, Katarina, or Talon," Caitlyn surmised. Ekko gave her a sarcastic-looking thumbs-up, so she responded in turn with a glare. "Well, it seems as if you don't seem very interested in accompanying me," she said, turning to walk further into the Noxian dorms. "I'll be investigating further by myself." Ekko merely shrugged at her, and walked off in the opposite direction.

 _Institute of War: Noxian Dormitory A7, 00:12 VST_

"Do you have any idea what hour it is?" groaned Katarina as she answered the knocking at her door. She rubbed sleep from her eyes and looked up at the taller woman standing in her doorway. "Oh. It's the cops. Whatever it is, I didn't do it," she muttered, moving her hand to close the door on Caitlyn. Before the door could completely close, Caitlyn stuck her foot inside, preventing the red-haired assassin from fleeing to the sanctuary of her room.

"Could I speak to you?" Caitlyn asked politely, trying to be civil with the woman she suspected of murder. Katarina just shrugged and stood aside, letting Caitlyn walk into the champion's dormitory. Katarina's walls were filled with daggers, as if the woman stored them by simply flinging them blade-first into any open spaces. Almost hitting her head on a long-handled blade sticking out of the wall at head-level, Caitlyn reached the bedroom of the Sinister Blade. The sheriff tried not to show her grimace at the smell of the room; it reeked of alcohol. Looking to her left, she saw a neatly-arranged pile of beer and wine bottles strewn at the foot of Katarina's bed. On the bedside table, she saw a picture of...Garen?

Katarina hastily moved in front of Caitlyn, obstructing her vision of the small picture frame. The purple-clad woman blinked, then cleared her throat.

"Ah, yes. I've come to ask you some questions regarding the death of Heimerdinger. His body was found outside the Noxian dorms, so I would like to ask if you know anything about that," Caitlyn explained, tapping her foot on the carpeted floor, which also reeked of alcohol. The assassin shook her head slowly, shrugging her shoulders.

"Sorry, Caitlyn. Wasn't me, and I don't know anything about it, 'cept that whoever killed him was sloppy about it. Maybe Darius would just chop someone up like that, but I would have been cleaner with it if I had been the killer," she said, moving to sit on her bed. After a few seconds of tentative sitting, she leaned back to sprawl onto the bed, her scarlet hair curtaining out around her head. "Listen," she mumbled, closing her eyes. "I'm fairly tired, officer. I'm just gonna get some rest now, but you can hang around if you wanna investigate some more. You're a responsible type of cop, right? Just don't touch my stuff, and close the door on the way out." With that, she dozed off, snoring softly.

Opting not to spend more time in the room, Caitlyn simply left the room, shutting the door as asked of her. As she walked down the halls, she examined her small map of the Institute, deciding to head over to Darius's quarters. When she arrived at the room, she found Vayne, the Night Hunter, standing outside. When the arbalist noticed the sheriff's presence, she gave a curt nod, her eyes obscured by the red-tinted glasses she wore.

"Greetings, Caitlyn," Vayne said quietly, her red cloak swaying slightly beneath the gigantic crossbow affixed to her back. "I presume you have reached the same conclusion about the murderer as I have." Caitlyn nodded, and stepped towards the door.

"Yes, I have," the sheriff admitted, reaching for the door knocker, but before she could do so, Vayne blocked her hand.

"Don't bother," the crossbow wielder stated, shaking her head. "I already tried knocking about six minutes ago, and I got no response. The door is locked, so Darius is either deeply asleep or not within his room." Caitlyn unslung her rifle from her back, loading a magazine of her signature "Ace in the Hole" explosive bullets into the weapon. When Vayne raised an eyebrow at this, Caitlyn motioned for her to stand back. The sheriff took fifteen paces backwards, standing as far from the door as the corridor would allow.

"This is a matter of the law. The Institute will deal with this intrusion later on, but I doubt our charge will be as severe as Darius's if he is proven guilty of the murder," Caitlyn asserted. "That is," she added, taking aim at the lock on the door. "If the summoners ever do return." Shaking the thought from her mind, she lowered the telescopic lenses of her hat to line up with those of her trusty sniper rifle. She wouldn't miss. She never missed. The shot blew a fist-sized hole in the runic stone of the lock, the door swinging open as its newly-added peep-hole smoked and sizzled. Brushing fragments of the lock's crystal from her shoulders, Vayne readied her wrist-mounted miniature crossbow and tumbled forward through the door.

Caitlyn rolled her eyes at the flashy action.

"Show-off," she muttered, striding through the door and reloading her rifle's bolt. She lit the small lamp on her hat, the focused beam of light permeating the darkness of the Noxian warrior's room. It was simply designed, with no personal effects visible in the room, save for a plaque that sat on the wall next to the doorway. It read; " _Strength above all._ " in a militaristic scrawl. Caitlyn scoffed at the ornament. "Noxians," she said, moving on. She found Vayne standing in the doorway of the bedroom, but the Night Hunter prevented her from seeing into the bedroom. Vayne, noticing Caitlyn standing there, stood aside, allowing the sheriff a clear view of the bed.

"I don't think that Darius was the murderer," Vayne dryly remarked, gesturing to the bed itself.

Caitlyn gasped. There, at the foot of the bed, lay Darius, his throat slit open, a wicked-looking blade pinning a sheet of parchment to his still-armored chest. Vayne strode forward, plucking the blade from Darius's chest. It was a straight-bladed knife, save for the end of it, where the blade widened out into a wavy point. The hilt was made of a brassy material. This was no Noxian-made knife. Vayne handed the note to Caitlyn, her lips pressed tight into a line.

The note read, " _Silly little Sheriff, you think that a big brute such as Darius could have done such a thing to poor, poor, Heimerdinger? Haha, no. I consider myself to be more of a free agent, who operates in a more...refined style. You can try your best to stop my fun, but if you do, you can count on being a target of my game. Have fun trying to stop me! HAHAHAHA! P.S. Watch out for the orange smoke…!"_

Caitlyn heard a puff, a gasp, the crackle of electricity, and the sound of metal on flesh. Spinning in an about-face with her weapon raised, Caitlyn was only fast enough to witness Vayne's corpse collapsing to the floor, spasming slightly from an electrical current. Her throat was slit in a manner similar to Darius's, and a small cloud of puffy orange smoke was rapidly dissipating around her. The sheriff swiftly knelt beside the arbalist, checking for a pulse. It was too late; Vayne was dead. Clenching her jaw, the sniper ran through the doorway, hoping to catch the assailant, but when she arrived outside, there was nothing in the hallway. Nothing but shadows.


End file.
